


Ghostlight

by Darci



Category: Doctor Who, The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Haunted House, Horror, I can't control my stories, Sentient house?, slight body horror, this got surprisingly dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darci/pseuds/Darci
Summary: The Doctor investigates a haunted house. ["Oh, honey, you lookin' for nightmares?"]





	Ghostlight

**Author's Note:**

> MY FIRST FIC IN THREE YEARS! So I lost the password to the account my FF.net and AO3 accounts were linked to, and then I forgot about that for actual years. Today I randomly changed the password and was able to check my emails, and I was amazed that people were still reading, reviewing, and favoriting my stories! I was so touched that I literally wrote a whole story to post. 
> 
> A couple notes:
> 
> \- This is a crossover of Doctor Who and The Haunting of Hill House but you don’t need to have seen Hill House to understand it. All you really have to know is that everyone who ‘lives’ in the House is dead. 
> 
> \- I haven’t seen any 13th Doctor episodes yet (I don’t have cable, okay) so I had to try to work out her voice based on YouTube clips. She sounds a bit 10th Doctor-y here but hopefully that’s okay.
> 
>  
> 
> \- If you’ve seen Hill House: I KNOW I HAVE THE ARCHITECTURE WRONG. I couldn’t find a good layout of the house used on the show so I just kind of made it up. Shit moves around in that house anyway.

It felt odd, traveling by herself, the Doctor mused as she opened the TARDIS door and stepped into a chilly evening. Felt too quiet without Yaz, Ryan, and Graham, but they had their own friends and families to spend time with, and she needed some time to think, didn’t she? To stop worrying about putting them in danger. Their adventures had been relatively safe so far-- worryingly so, she thought—but she could feel something coming. Anxiety had been building in her for a while, prickling along her shoulders, and she shivered, pulling her coat closer around herself. She always thought she could keep them safe, until she couldn’t…

She exhaled. Her breath rose in a visible mist. She was on Earth, she discerned, a Northern area in… November? Dead leaves covered the floor of a sparse forest columned with spindly dead trees that looked black in the darkling light. The Doctor licked her finger and poked the air, testing. Ah, United States. Twentieth century, late end of. Frozen leaves cackled under her boots as she walked to a nearby tree and, quickly, casually, licked a leaf. Molecules tingled on her tongue, sent messages zinging into her being, and she knew where she was now. Just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. Why here? It was lonely in the dark, with the shadows of trees stretching in the rising moonlight, surrounded by frost and mist. 

Behind her the TARDIS purred, warm and encouraging. At the same time a light flickered to life beyond the trees. A lone light, but bright. It flashed fully then vanished, then flicked on again. Two flashes. She waited for more. Was it a message? Morse code, maybe. Two dots meant “I”, but the message didn’t seem to be ongoing. Something else, probably. Her hearts pounded in her ears, adrenaline building at the prospect of a puzzle. She loved puzzles, and the kind she was used to were usually dangerous but it had been a long time since she had run, really run, depending only on her wits for escape. The light flashed twice more. Maybe they were meant to be dashes, not dots. Two dashes: “M”. _I. M. I. M. I’m. I am. I am what?_ The Doctor snorted. Silly Doctor, getting ahead of herself. Trying to solve a riddle without any real clues. Two more flashes of light. _I am_. Steady as hearts-beats.

She wove around trees as she walked over the rotting carpet of forest floor, curious. Out of the darkness it bloomed suddenly. How it had remained hidden while being smack in front of her was a mystery to her. Maybe it was just too massive, or unexpected. It was a house, and it hummed. It grumbled and creaked, this mansion in front of her. Towers and arches loomed in the dark grey sky, and as she looked on suddenly lights blazed. Windows illuminated swiftly. Light swept through corridors and up stairs like a wildfire, until the mansion glowed before the Doctor, the warm light underscored by the deep humming that seemed to emanate from the stones and bricks themselves. Shadows bustled behind the windows, people scurrying in the sudden light. The humming both drew the Doctor in and repulsed her. Foreboding grew tight in her ribcage, and she was glad her team was safe in Sheffield. Didn’t fancy them running about in this angry house. 

She drew her sonic from her coat pocket, flipped it in the air and caught it. Wouldn’t hurt to be cautious for once. And when she knocked on the great oaken door, carved with ornate filigree, the knock echoed as through a vast space, and the house rumbled.

The woman who answered the door was beautiful. Thick dark hair and catlike eyes. Her silk dressing gown spoke of luxury, but her feet were bare. She smiled at the Doctor, gently and unsurprised, as if the Doctor was an expected guest. “Good evening. Come in, please.” The woman stepped back gracefully, allowing a view of a vast foyer, all old marble and high ceilings--- and yet, somehow, off. It was all off. Odd in a way the Doctor couldn’t place. A thrill of fear, real fear, trembled through the Doctor as she stepped through the doorway. “Thanks.” Keep it light, Doc. Casual. “Real cold out there. Makes a gal wish she had a great woolly hat! Like one of them the Queen’s Guard wears, with the chin straps.” Rambling, Doctor. “Yes! You have a lovely home! I’m the Doctor!”

The woman laughed softly. She didn’t seem the least bit curious about the stranger she had just welcomed into her home, who had showed up uninvited and unlooked-for. “Welcome to Hill House,” she murmured, gesturing to the foyer. To their right an imperial staircase swept upwards. An overall’d repairman was on the half-landing, working on an ornate grandfather clock. He nodded and tipped his cap to the Doctor as if repairing a clock at this time of night was perfectly normal. A tiny girl with short blonde hair and big serious eyes peered out from between the balusters of the right arm of the staircase. The Doctor put on her most kindly smile. 

“Hello.” The girl didn’t reply.

The woman said, “Abigail is very shy.” Abigail withdrew from the balusters and scampered away. 

“Come along,” the woman continued. “I was just making some tea.” 

She beckoned the Doctor forward through a dining room. The clock repairman grunted, and from further in the house laughter sounded. It was high-pitched and breathless, the unselfconscious laughter of young children. 

“Your children?” asked the Doctor. 

The woman nodded. “We have many. They’re quite the handful.”

The kitchen was shabby and cozy in comparison to the foyer and the dining room. A plain table dominated the space. As they entered a shrill whistle rose from a kettle on the stove, announcing that water was boiling. 

“Please sit,” the woman said, pouring steaming water into two teacups that cradled bagged tea. The Doctor sat, re-pocketing her sonic and wondering why there were two cups ready. Her nose twitched; the house smelled old, all must and mold, the walls sighing at the brush of the frigid wind outside. There was a strange feeling to the air of the house, as of something sleepy but watchful, and something else, something so familiar—

Teacups tinkled as the woman as the woman placed the cups and saucers in front of herself and the Doctor. “I hope you like chamomile.” 

The Doctor nodded. “One of me faves.” 

The tea smelled sweet and grassy, the heat of it warming her hands. She hadn’t realized she was so cold! She lifted the delicate cup to her lips to blow on the scalding liquid, and as she did frantic footsteps thundered from the hallway, signaling another arrival. A man flew into the kitchen, eyes wild, movements frenetic, and before she could react he had dashed the teacup from her hands. The bone china shattered on the floor, chamomile splattering the Doctor’s coat. She sputtered “Hey—!”

“Dammit, Liv!” The man towered over the sitting woman. She sipped her tea, her marble calm unmoved by the storm of his rage. 

“It’s just tea, Hugh.” 

Hugh released a breath through clenched teeth, his fists tight. The Doctor stood slowly. “’Scuse me—” 

Hugh didn’t seem to notice her now and continued glaring at Liv. “How can I trust you?! Last time it was ‘just tea’ you poisoned a child!”

“Sorry?” The Doctor interjected. 

Liv rolled her eyes and sipped again. “As you can see, it’s fine. And I didn’t kill her, I woke her up.” 

“OY!” The Doctor waved her arms, but neither Liv nor Hugh acknowledged her. 

Suddenly Liv turned toward the Doctor. “Nell, honey, go back to bed.” 

“What?” No, Liv was looking behind the Doctor, not at her, and the Doctor turned and saw a child standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, her lip trembling. The Doctor glanced back to Hugh and Liv, filled with consternation at their arguing and ready to reprimand, but they were gone. An empty teacup rested on the table, dusty and cracked, and there were no bone shards on the floor from the shattered cup. The Doctor’s coat was dry again. 

“Are you awake?” The voice came from where Nell had been standing, but now she sounded different. The little girl had been replaced by a slender young woman. Her dark hair flowed over her left shoulder, emphasizing the sharp twist of her broken neck. Her head tilted to the side as if stuck on a hinge. Despite this she stood upright. Her blue lips quirked into a sad smile. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not? What’s here?” 

A man appeared behind the broken-necked woman. His hand intertwined with hers and they gazed at each other like a couple newly wed. He broke the gaze and turned to the Doctor. “It’s hungry.” 

“What—” But the man shook his head, and before the Doctor could finish he had drawn the broken-necked woman back through the doorway. The Doctor huffed in annoyance.  
“Okay! You have got to stop INTERRUPTING ME!” 

A flurry of giggles from the foyer answered her frustrated yell. The Doctor sighed. These imprints—ghosts—whatever they were!—were playing games with her. Well, she could play games too! She trudged back toward the foyer. At first glance it was empty, but then she saw them. Five children standing in a row on the half-landing of the staircase. Three girls and two boys. Little Nell was among them, standing at the end next to a boy with thick spectacles. As soon as she saw them they ran up the stairs, three scattering soundlessly up the left-hand arm of the stairs and two flying up the right-hand arm. Nell was the last to disappear, and she glanced back at the Doctor as she ran. Obviously the Doctor was to follow. The cold air, still so familiar (but she couldn’t put her finger on _why_ ) brushed her neck as she ascended. The clock repairman was gone, as was any trace of the children. The curved balustrade led her to a long dim corridor. To her left was a row of heavy doors. To her right, down a hallway peopled with ornate Classical statues, was a lone red door.

“Oh, honey, you lookin’ for nightmares?” a sultry voice asked. The Doctor jumped. A woman had appeared from nowhere. Her dark red hair was carefully curled and she wore a green silk dress in the style of a 1920s flapper. She blinked dreamily at the Doctor. Her eyes glinted and malice rolled off her. She nodded at the red door. “That’s the one you want. But once it’s got you it don’t let you go back to sleep.” She laughed, deep and harsh, then winked. “Sweet dreams, honey.” Then she was gone, just a blank space in the shadows. The Doctor listened. The air was still and silent, still wrapping its cold arms around her. She peered closely at the red door, and the house hummed again. The sound came from the very bones of the house, up from the deep foundations, and the Doctor retrieved her sonic. Deep breath.

“Alright. Let’s be havin’ you then.”

The house rumbled in its fell voice. The doorknob was icy in her hand, but turned easily, and without a moment’s hesitation she slipped in.

She was in her TARDIS. The console glowed and beeped. Blue lights danced. But there—ah, _there_ it was wrong. The windows of the front doors were all wrong. Instead of little squares there were two long windows, one in each door. Stars glittered past the glass. The TARDIS was luminous around her and oh! She was so stupid! It was amazing how stupid she was, really, because the air in the house matched the air in the TARDIS, a living thing all stretched out in time and malleable in space—no wonder it had felt familiar-- but it was a bit different in the house, more autonomous and malignant. She addressed the empty room. 

“So you’ve shown me you can see into me mind. Psychic link. That’s real good but you got it messed up. Let’s have a look at you. The real you, please!”

There was a growl that sounded faintly sneering, and the TARDIS dissolved. Ragged carpeting and wood-paneled walls with peeling red wallpaper replaced the Gallifreyan writing and soft blue lights. Water stains and mold appeared. Finally, someone was listening! 

“So, you been doing what? Eating people and capturing their consciousnesses as ghosts? What for?”

No answer. Fine. It wanted games, but the Doctor was pretty sure real people had died so she was done with games. In the center of the wall before her there was a long window, identical to one that had been in the fake TARDIS door. It had remained the only constant when the room shifted, and that told her that it was important. 

_Let’s see how you like this_. The Doctor aimed her sonic at the window. “I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!” 

Nothing. The Doctor’s thumb pressed the ON button, sent out waves at the exact frequency to shatter glass. The house growled. Around her the room shook and howled like an earthquake and tornado combined, and then all fell into darkness.

Her head hurt. She blinked. Too bright. She hated waking up from concussions. “Uargghh.”

“Doctor?” Yasmin came into focus. “Are you awake now? Feeling better?”

The room she was in was warm and sunny, the walls lined with windows that let in a soothing breeze. She was on a sofa, cradled in numerous pillows. She could hear Ryan and Graham’s voices filtering from another room.

“Eh? What happened?”

Yaz touched her shoulder. She was wearing red lipstick and a red shirt the Doctor had never seen before. “You hit your head. We weren’t sure if we could take you to hospital.”  
Her head still felt funny. Shadowy images were lingering at the corners of her mind, something she couldn’t quite remember…

“Doctor?”

The images were almost completely evaporated. “I’m fine. Just had a funny dream.” She sat up, Yaz supporting her shoulder. 

“Well, you’re awake now. Graham’s made sarnies, that’ll make you feel better.”

Now she thought about it, she was hungry. “Yeah. I could do with some pickles and cheese.”

The Doctor smiled, and Hill House smiled with her. It rumbled its delight and its lights faded as it settled down to rest. It folded its newest resident into its embrace. In the night Hill House waited, and it hungered.


End file.
